Loose end
by SeekHim
Summary: The Quest has been fulfilled. Now the Ringbearer has one final task to perform. Part of my 'Ringbearer' universe. Warning: A VERY dark AU
1. Prologue:Warning

Disclaimer: None of these characters or concepts are mine. They belong to Tolkien.

Those of you who have read Larner's AU series, _Might have Beens_**, **may recall her chapter, _'An Enemy Made.'  
_In it Frodo senses that they won't reach Rivendell before the Morgul blade reaches his heart.  
Rather than become a Wraith he begs Sam to do the unthinkable...

And Sam does.

My "Ringbearer" series is my take on what happens next. I've written it with Larner's consent.

I'm warning you right now that what follows is very chilling.

Read on if you dare.


	2. Loose End

_March 25__th_

_The Cracks of Mount Doom_

The Ringbearer gazed silently down into the ever increasing fury of the sea of lava. Now that his Purpose had been  
fulfilled he permitted himself a moment to contemplate the odd symmetry of it all.

Fire was a force of both creation and destruction. And the Sammath Naur, was truly a place of beginnings and endings.  
Volcanoes and deep crevices were windows into the heart of the earth; Aulë's Great Forge, the Dwarf, Gimli had called it once.  
It had been from the Great Forge that the third greatest of the Valar had brought forth the lands of Arda so many ages ago.

And it had been here, in this particular forge, the Chamber of Fire, that Aulë's greatest servant had crafted his greatest  
and darkest creation. It had been here that the One Ring had been made…and unmade.

The Ring had been destroyed. The Quest was fulfilled.

Almost.

There was one final task to perform.

One last loose end to tidy up.

He didn't have much time; the entire mountain was breaking apart. The quakes were becoming more severe  
by the moment, the fires of Orodruin were rising rapidly, spewing showers of rock and flame. He would be  
consumed if he lingered here.

But no.

No, this had to be done correctly.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small skinning knife. The same knife that had performed a fateful deed,  
two days from Imladris. The same knife that had claimed two lives and left behind two corpses.

One corpse had been perfectly ordinary, save for a cursed Morgul shard that had worked its way to the heart...

And a deep slice on the neck from ear to ear.

The other corpse had not been so ordinary; it didn't have a mark on it, but it had been as dead as the first.

Still that hadn't been what was most unusual. The most unusual thing about it had been the fact that even  
though it was as dead as the other; it had gone on twitching…for a while.

It was now time to put an end to it.

It was not wise to leave loose ends. Look at what happened when the Valar banished Morgoth

to the Void, but left his servant, Sauron, running loose in Middle Earth.

Everything that had happened since; every dark deed that Sauron had committed. Every single bit of suffering  
he had caused…had all been as much the Powers' fault as the fallen Maia's.

No doubt, the Valar could give their excuses. But whatever Their motives had been, it made no difference  
to the Ringbearer one way or the other. They knew what They had done and They would just have to live with it.

They knew what They had done. And he knew what he had done. And still needed to do.

He studied the blade with calm interest. Yes, things had indeed come full circle. One corpse

had been disposed of in Imladris; it was now time to bury the other.

The ground quaked ever more violently, nearly throwing him off his feet. The flames and smoke were increasing  
by the moment. A shower of rock narrowly missed him. He had to be quick.

He stepped closer to the edge and lifted the blade to his throat.

"_No!" _

A desperate cry entered the Chamber

"_Samwise, stop!" _

It was Gandalf.

Gandalf was alive.

Samwise Gamgee would have spun around, overcome with shock, disbelief and joy.

But he was not that person. And all he felt was a twinge of annoyance at the interruption.

He wasn't really surprised that Gandalf had somehow survived. During his time in Imladris he had studied,  
listened and pressed for every scrap of information that held relevancy to his purpose.

In the process he had learned quite a few things about Gandalf and the rest of Istari. He had learned  
things and pieced together others. And he knew that if anyone could have survived a fight with a Balrog,  
it would have been Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf the Wizard.

Gandalf the Maia.

"I'm not surprised that you're here, Gandalf," the Ringbearer shouted over the roar of the volcano.  
"You have a way of not coming when you're needed and then showing yourself when you're not wanted.  
I assume that your eagle friend, Gwaihir, is at your beck and call again?"

"Samwise…" the Wizard began again.

The Ringbearer turned around, but didn't lower the knife.

Gandalf was standing behind him at the entrance of the Chamber; clad in white, more powerful in appearance,  
but looking decades older, face heavily lined with grief and guilt.

"Your memory's failing, Gandalf," the Ringbearer said calmly. "I've told you time and again, that that's not my name."

The Wizard stepped closer, "It_ is_ your name!" he said earnestly. "It's who you are! You don't have to do this!"

"I don't have to do this?" Although his face remained expressionless, the Ringbearer couldn't help but feel  
a slight twinge of something vaguely approaching amusement.

"Not only has your memory failed, so has your wisdom, apparently. Yours, and the rest of the so-called Wise.  
You should have known from the beginning that this was inevitable. You should have known that the moment  
Frodo's life ended the way it did, my existence could have only one possible outcome."

He paused and looked back downward into the Crack. "You should have known from the start that my path  
could only lead….to this."

The Hobbit shrugged slightly. "Not that I wanted any of you to realize it sooner; I did my best

to make sure that none of you suspected. I had no interest in listening to childish hysterics and useless platitudes."

He spoke thoughtfully, almost to himself. "It's interesting how if one says certain things, but leaves out a few details,  
one can make others imagine whatever they want. And if one has a certain... focus...it's _difficult,_ but not _impossible  
_to keep even Elf Lords and Wizards, from poking around in one's head."

"_Samwise, don't do this!_" Gandalf bellowed. "This isn't what Frodo would have wanted!"

"I'm well aware of that, Gandalf. But this isn't about what Frodo would have wanted; this is about what _is_."

The Hobbit turned around and looked intently at the Wizard. "And since when did what Frodo want ever mean  
anything to you? The only thing that Frodo ever wanted was to live out a peaceful life as a child of the Shire."

His eyes narrowed. "_You_ destroyed all hope of that. Not only did you badger Bilbo into giving Frodo the Ring,  
but afterwards _you were stupid enough to leave him alone with It_."

The Wizard flinched as if he had been stabbed.

The Hobbit went on relentlessly. 'Even if you were too blind to realize earlier that Saruman couldn't be trusted:  
the _moment_ you realized or even _suspected_ what it was that Frodo had, you should have immediately taken him  
to Rivendell. And you should have taken him there _yourself._ _Not_ send him off alone. _Then,_ once he was safe,  
you could have consulted the rest of your Order all you wanted."

He turned back towards the flames. "You're as much to blame for Frodo's death as Sauron.  
His blood stains your hands as much as it did the Dark Lord's."

Tears were coming to the Wizard's eyes; his heart breaking more with every moment. But still he tried  
desperately to reach the former gardener.

"Has _your_ memory failed?" he shouted. "You promised Pippin that you wouldn't throw your  
life away! You promised _all _of us! Are you going back on your word?"

The Ringbearer let down his internal mask. After all, his task was done. There was no more need for pretense.  
No more need to hide his true nature. And besides, he was partially Gandalf's creation. Why shouldn't the Istari  
get a good look at his own handiwork? Why shouldn't he see what his actions and _lack_ thereof had helped wrought?

Yes. He would show the Wizard what he truly was.

Just as he had shown that fool, Boromir at Amon Hen.

"I already know what _you_ are, Gandalf, or should I say, Olórin. It's only fitting that you learn what _I _am."

Slowly he turned around again to face the Istari.

The Maia looked into the dead Hobbit's lifeless eyes and gave a soft cry of grief.

"As you can see I'm not breaking any promises," the Ringbearer said softly. "Nor am I throwing anything away.  
One can't throw away what they don't have. And one can't kill something that's already dead."

"Samwise!" Gandalf cried despairingly, "What about your family? What about Rosie? Are you going to turn  
your back on all of them? Are you going to throw them away just so you can join Frodo?"

The Ringbearer's answer chilled the Wizard to the bone.

"I'm not going to join Frodo, Gandalf. I'm _never_ going to join him; he's gone where I can't follow.  
And the same goes for Rose Cotton and the Gamgees; I'm never going to see any of them again…in this life or the next."

The Wizard was slowly shaking his head back and forth in denial. But the Ringbearer went on relentlessly.  
"Frodo has gone to the same place that they'll eventually go…to the Halls of the One, where it's always Light.  
Even if it were possible for me to still go there I wouldn't."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Creatures of Darkness don't belong in the Light… and the Halls of the One  
are no place for the Damned."

He pressed the knife more tightly against the soft skin of his throat. "There's only one place  
for the Damned, old man. And that's the Void."

"Samwise…!" the Maia whispered, tears streaming down his face. "Please…Please come back….I beg of you…"  
His voice broke.

The Ringbearer shook his head. "Samwise Gamgee is _dead,_ old man. And the Powers Themselves couldn't  
bring him back."

He pressed the knife tighter still and tensed his arm for the final stroke. "All that I'm doing now is burying his corpse."

In one swift motion the Hobbit slit his throat from ear to ear.

Gandalf cried out and raced forward to catch him. But the Ringbearer, eyes fading, took a slight step back…  
and fell downwards into the Crack of Doom.

As he plummeted downwards, the last sight he beheld was that of Gandalf the White atop the precipice,  
arms still reached out in a futile effort to save him.

And the last sound he heard before his body struck the lava and darkness claimed him was  
the Maia's despairing scream of horror and grief.

_Fin_


End file.
